


Regeneration

by antivanitas



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, First Meetings, M/M, Magic, One Shot, Pirates, Witchcraft, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 00:22:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11497890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antivanitas/pseuds/antivanitas
Summary: Keith isn't used to living test subjects, but a witch would never pass up the chance to risk the life of a pirate.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is a commission for @mumblingelf on twitter! 1k sfw prompt about baby witch keith and pirate shiro. 
> 
> my twitter is @hitchups come hmu!

Walking along the shore, Keith expects to find seashells. Maybe a dead shark, if he’s lucky—their hearts make for a great stamina potion. In fact, the ocean presents many opportunities for Keith to gather supplies. The common witch might reside in the forest, where they intend to find flora and exotic animals to fulfill their spells. Sometimes, Keith sees unicorns dashing through the surf. Those are the only intelligent creatures he ever encounters.

And this is why the sight of bright red blood on the sand concerns him so greatly. The trail is black under the night sky, but Keith can easily tell it’s not the metallic silver of a unicorn’s blood. It mats the sand, and Keith, suddenly panicked, turns to the ocean, where the mess is washed away by the incoming tide. To the other end, against the rocky border between dune and forest, he spots a figure.

A man. A pirate.

Keith tries to restart his heart when he sees the dark bandanna wrapped around the man’s neck. He seems unconscious, but Keith is never so careless. Pirates have a saying—witches bring riches. Keith doesn’t always come out unscathed from his encounters with the band of thieves.

But, as he approaches, he notices something even more concerning. The man’s right arm has been shredded to pieces below the elbow, messily severed by some vicious sea creature. The kelp around his shoulders and the gashes on his chest prove only one thing: this is a man overboard.

Keith kneels cautiously beside the man, brushing away his stark white bangs, and—oh. Underneath of his right eye is a single letter T, burned into his skin by an iron prod. He’s a traitor. A traitor to his crew, to his own kind. Keith knows that feeling all too well.

He can fix this. He can return this man’s arm. It’s risky, and he’s been perfecting the technique for nearly a year, but he can do it. Keith has never been presented with a live human subject, before. At least, he’s alive right now. He unties the bandanna and moves to bind the wound, careful not to make it worse.

Keith makes sure to leave the pirate’s sword in the sand.  
\--

The man wakes up as Keith is mixing his ingredients. Luckily, the witch thought ahead. He’s tied down the pirate, enchanting his ropes with magic. The pirate struggles, but ultimately, his eyes dart around the room until he finds Keith.

“Bad day?” Keith asks.  
His cottage is lit by the warm glow coming from the fireplace, and it smells vaguely of rosemary. By all considerations, the space isn’t very threatening. But the pirate still looks stunned, and he jumps when Red jumps up onto the bed with him. Keith smirks as the pirate seems to be trying to remember what a cat is.

“Who are you?” the pirate asks. His voice is impossibly shaky, and rough, and something about the gravely tone sends a comfortable shiver down Keith’s spine. “Why are you—why am I tied up?”

“I was hoping to keep you from freaking out and running away,” Keith says as he pours some aloe gel into a mixing cup filled with wolfs bane. “Also, I don’t trust you. Sorry.”

The man nods, eyebrows raised. “None taken.”

He hears the pirate sigh, and while Keith isn’t looking, he assumes that action is directed at the missing appendage. “I was hoping all of this was a dream, or something. No such luck.”

“I found you on the shore,” Keith tells him. “Judging by your current state, I’d say they made you walk the plank. Or whatever it is you pirates do.”

There’s a particularly half-offended scoff. Keith only glances over, but when he does, he sees the man stretching his back. The smooth column of his arched, exposed neck has Keith blushing and nearly dropping his matches. He tries to stay calm as he lights his burner, placing his ingredients over the flame.

The spell he’s made is simple enough. It requires a potion of regeneration, and chance. Realistically, under different circumstances, he’d rather test it on a corpse. He’s not used to live experiments. Alas, there’s an unreasonably attractive pirate in his cottage, and he’s missing an arm. There’s a bitter, ironic opportunity there that he isn’t going to pass up.

“I’m Keith,” he introduces, rising from his desk. “I’m a witch.”

“I gathered.” The man nods at Keith’s wall of ingredients and tools. “I’m Shiro.”

“Don’t you worry, Shiro,” Keith tells him, and he takes a risk, brushing the pirate’s bangs out of his eyes. “I’ll get your arm back. I’ve done it before.”

Shiro blinks incredulously. “You have?”

“To a dog. A dead one.”

“Oh. Fantastic.”

Keith decides Shiro isn’t much of a threat. He looks kind enough, and if he’s a traitor to pirates, maybe he doesn’t hate witches as much of the rest of them do. As much as everyone does. There isn’t much fire on the ocean, but pirates are clever in their means of murder. Slowly, Keith reaches to break the spell, and the ropes fall away in a flash of violet light.

Still, even though Keith proclaims to himself that he isn’t fearful, he parries out of Shiro’s space before the man can react to being untied. His concoction is boiling nicely, and, satisfied, he places a lid on his pot.

“How long will that take?” Shiro asks, nodding at the potion.

“Three months.” Keith glances back to see Shiro’s wide eyes, and he laughs, leaning against the desk. “What? You have somewhere important to be, in the meantime?”

Shiro, still stunned, stands. He glances around the cottage—it’s one room, with a mediocre kitchen and a wooden bathtub. It’s meant for Keith and Red. His familiar hops onto the mantle and watches with keen eyes as Shiro surveys the space. Outside, it’s pitch black. The distant sounds of crashing waves and shore winds whistle in the background.

“There’s not much space for me, here,” Shiro notes. “One bed.”

Keith folds his arms and quirks an eyebrow. “I guess we’ll have to get comfortable, then.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a continuation of hannah's commission, so thank her for the extension~

“You really don’t have to sleep on the floor.”

As Keith sets up a tiny nest by the fire, he shrugs.  He’s used at least four blankets, so far, and he knows Shiro is wondering why he has so many to begin with.  Keith doesn’t want to admit that, on colder nights, he curls up underneath them in his bed and pretends to be a caterpillar, warm and safe.

“I’m not about to have a guest sleep on the hard ground,” he mumbles.  “Even if that guest is a pirate.”

Shiro isn’t well enough to be on the hardwood, anyway.  He’s still recovering from his injury, having nearly stumbled over just a few minutes ago.  And, he’s still getting used to the loss of his arm.  Which, by the way, Keith thinks he’s taking particularly well.

Ultimately, it could be worse.  The only problem is that his spell is going to take far longer than it should, and Keith bites his lip.  Hopefully, Shiro is grateful he’s being healed, at all.  If Keith hadn’t come along, he’d still be stranded--likely, consumed by the wildlife in the tropical forest surrounding them.

“You’re gonna sleep there for three months?” Shiro pushes.  Keith sighs, but doesn’t answer.  “Come on.  Let’s switch places.  As a guest, I’m telling you that it’s  _ fine _ .”

“No.”  Keith is finally satisfied with his bundle of blankets, and fluffs a pillow to his liking.  “Now, go to sleep.”

He raises a hand towards the fire, calming it slightly with his magic, but keeping it burning on embers to provide a subtle glow and a gentle warmth.  Frowning, he settles under the blankets, noticing that Red is nowhere to be found.

“Red, get over here,” he calls to the room.  There are a few seconds of pause before tiny feet touch the ground and pitter over to him.  She was on the bed with Shiro, Keith realizes.  Indignantly, he gawks.  “Were you going to sleep with him?!”

Shiro gives a bout of soft laughter.  “I have a thing with cats.  They like me.”

Keith narrows his eyes at her until he sees her curl up at his feet.  “She’s not a cat.  She’s my familiar, in the form of a cat.”

“Familiar?”

“The living form of my magic,” Keith explains.  “Basically, if you took all of my power away from me and molded it into something living.  She helps me.”

Shiro doesn’t look like he understands, which leaves Keith feeling both annoyed and satisfied.  Annoyed, because he picked up the stupidest, most ignorant pirate  _ ever _ .  But, satisfied, because he feels cool and aloof whenever something he does is too complicated for someone else to understand.

Keith hums, curling up under his blanket and turning to face the smoldering fire.  “Now, goodnight!”

“You’re okay with sleeping in the same room as a complete stranger?”

“Red would tell me if you tried to kill me,” Keith sighs, exasperated.  “Besides--do you really want to know what I could do to you?”

He can  _ feel _ Shiro smirking.  “I won’t say I’m not curious.”

Keith pointedly does not respond as his ears burn.

\---

It is eerily quiet when Keith wakes up.  Outside, all he can hear is the crashing of waves.  He blinks away sleep and slowly sits up, rubbing his eyes and stretching his mouth in a yawn.  That’s when he remembers there’s a guest in his home; he raises his gaze, prepared to have to wake up a snoozing pirate.

But, Shiro looks pale.  Mallow.  Keith’s eyebrows knit in confusion as he stands, noting the sheen of sweat on Shiro’s forehead and the dark circles under his eyes.  He sits on the bed, gently brushing his fingers over Shiro’s temple.

He’s burning.  Keith gasps at the contrast in temperature, and he pulls back his hand to bite his nail nervously.  Shit.  Is he sick?  Is he allergic to something?

Shiro stirs, and his eyes crack open, bloodshot and bleary.  He tries to speak, but all that comes out is a quiet croak, and he has to clear his throat before continuing.  “I feel like I just drowned again.”

Keith watches the pirate glance at his stub of an arm in discomfort, and something clicks.  Without asking, he reaches to unwrap the makeshift bandage wound around Shiro’s forearm.  When he pulls away the fabric, they both wince.  

The skin is an angry red, and his wound is oozing, and it’s a disgusting sight.  Shiro doesn’t even react--he appears too delirious to even feel the pain in his arm.  He laughs shortly and sarcastically.  “Guess that didn’t go as planned, huh?”

“It’s infected,” Keith states, as though it weren’t obvious.  “Um...uh.  I might be able to help.”

Shakily, he stands.  He knows that, really, this isn’t  _ his _ fault.  He’s not the one who ripped Shiro’s arm off, and he’d probably be dead already had Keith not found him.  But, his heart still pounds, because what happens from this point onward  _ is _ his fault.

He mixes the ingredients he know will create a topical spell, enough to subside the fever, at the very least.  He’s concocted a few healing potions for himself in the past, but they’ve been basic, and nothing to treat an infected severed arm.  As he works, his heart pounds.  His hands are shaking, and he drops the jar filled with Japanese beetles.  

“Shit,” he curses, bending down to scoop them up.  “I--sorry.  This won’t take that long.”

At least, not as long as his other fuckups.  

In a few minutes, he has a gel-like substance that can be applied directly to the wound.  He concentrates, and allows a small bit of himself to flow into the mix.  The magic should, hopefully, counteract the infection at a faster rate.  Should.   _ Hopefully _ .

He approaches Shiro again, and at least the wound isn’t bleeding, anymore.  Maybe he didn’t change the bandages fast enough.  His lip nearly bleeds between his teeth, as he uses a wooden spatula to apply the potion.

Shiro hisses, but doesn’t look away.  The mixture instantly removes some of the redness, for which Keith is intensely grateful.  He can only hope it has the same positive effect on the wound itself.  While the relief doesn’t seem to be immediate, Shiro’s complexion brightens just the smallest bit.

Keith relaxes.  It hasn’t killed him.  That’s a good sign.  He’s keenly aware of the bubbling potion in the background, simmering and combining at an agonizingly slow pace.  In a week, he’ll have to add a few more ingredients and upgrade the size of the pot.

“What is that?” Shiro asks, and his voice doesn’t sound nearly as weak.

“Just a healing potion,” Keith explains, as he applies more for good luck.  “It should kill the bacteria and numb the pain a little.  My magic should speed up the process.”

Shiro laughs weakly.  “You don’t sound so sure about that.”

“I’m not all that used to healing magic.”  Keith feels his back heat up from the admission.  “It doesn’t come naturally for me.  Not much does.”

Shiro doesn’t respond to that.  Keith’s lip is cherry red from his teeth, and he doesn’t miss the way Shiro’s eyes flicker towards them.  With a soft smile, Keith resigns to placing his potion into a jar, saving it for later.  Based on the ingredients, it might last a few months--but definitely long enough for Shiro to have a few more applications, should he need it.

He hears quiet laughter behind him, and turns to see Shiro examining his wound.  Keith quickly grabs a fresh bandage from his shelf and hurries over, preparing to dress Shiro’s stump.

He’s halfway finished when Shiro says, “As long as you didn’t poison me, we’re good.”

Keith’s heart seems to stutter to a stop.  His hands freeze.  No, he wouldn’t--he couldn’t  _ poison _ him, it’s not like he used anything that could cause  _ harm _ .  He quickly glances back at his potion, scanning through the ingredients in his mind, trying to find a contradiction that he may have missed, before Shiro slides his left hand onto Keith’s thigh.

Keith’s attention snaps back into place.  Shiro is smiling softly, and Keith doesn’t understand, because he doesn’t look poisoned.

“I was just kidding,” he says.  “I have morbid humor.”

_ What _ .

Keith’s eyes well with tears, then.  He sharply pulls his hands away, before he stands and tosses the rest of the bandage at Shiro’s chest.  He doesn’t want Shiro to see him cry, but he can’t help the tears that trickle down his cheeks.

“If you think my magic is something to  _ joke _ about, fine.”  His cheeks flare, and Red hisses, leaping onto his shoulder.  Shiro has the gall to look surprised.  “Why don’t you just heal yourself?!”

When he leaves his cottage, he slams the door.  The wood is too old for such rough movement, but he doesn’t care.  He wants Shiro to know that his punchlines aren’t funny.  That  _ stupid _ pirate.  Thinking he can just poke fun at Keith’s skills, because he has no  _ idea _ .  No clue!  His anger carries his feet, and he doesn’t realize that he’s creating glass in the sand with his footsteps.

Finally, he comes to the shore.  He feels a bubbling bitterness for it, because the ocean brought him Shiro.  The ocean brought him trouble, dissention.  Shiro is a traitor, isn’t he?  Well, he should suffer like he should have.  Keith could care less if he perishes from infection.  The only shame is that he’ll have to deal with the mess.

He plops down in the sand by the tree line, pulling his knees to his chest.  Keith pulls his flowing black cloak around himself, curling into the warmth to break the chilling breeze from the coast.  This is so stupid.  So  _ stupid _ .

Red curls by his feet, and he sulks.

It actually takes around an hour before Shiro can be seen walking along the shore.  Keith glances once, and then pretends he doesn’t see.  He keeps his gaze pointed firmly at his boots until Shiro gingerly sits down next to him, holding up a piece of glass in the shape of a footprint.

“This is certainly one way to leave a trail,” he says.  Keith snatches the glass and tosses it away, before curling into himself once more.  “I’m sorry, you know.”

“For what?” Keith mutters.  “Being a pirate?”

Shiro hesitates.  “Being a dick.  I shouldn’t have joked about it.  You don’t deserve to be made fun of--I guess I’m just used to that kind of humor.”

The apology rings true, but Keith still pouts.  It’s quiet between them, and the air is only a little tense; Red licks her paw and begins to clean her face, as if to show that she isn’t eavesdropping.

He finally glances at Shiro, who has concern written in his eyes--perhaps over wondering whether or not he’ll be forgiven.  The T at the top of his cheek is healing, likely from the potion.  That gives Keith a little hope.

“I guess it’s okay,” he admits.  “But you’ll still have to make it up to me.”

Shiro grins, and Keith glances away, trying to pretend like that expression isn’t doing wild things to his heartbeat.  “Any way I can.”

_ Any _ way?  God.  Why does he have to be so  _ attractive _ ?  Keith’s thoughts immediately go to hot mouths and heavy breaths, and he hates himself for it, stuffing those images into a jar in his mind.

Keith nods, though, despite himself.  Shiro is actually...helping.  He’s never felt this comforted before, and Red is purring.  He nudges her with his foot to get her to stop, but she only starts to purr so loud that she vibrates.

“I wish I had more help to fix your arm,” he says.  “Like, if I had a better reputation, I might be able to score an assistant.  But, I haven’t talked to another witch in  _ years _ .”

“I’m not too popular either, you know.”  Shiro gestures to his T, and gives a grim smirk. 

“What happened?” Keith asks, and then adds, “If that’s okay to ask.”

He shrugs.  “I guess I wasn’t a very good pirate.”

Keith waits for him to continue.

“It’s one thing to rob rich men,” he explains.  “You know, governors who pillage their people through fines and prison sentences.  Those kinds of riches are rewarding.  But, innocent people…”

“And, that’s where your reputation precedes you,” Keith quips.

“I don’t like that,” Shiro says.  “I never liked that.  I want to fight evil, and my crew was starting to fight those who already had nothing.”

“And you didn’t want to associate with that?”

Shiro gives him an incredulous look.  “Of course not.  I wasn’t about to be the captain of a ship known for ambushing fishing schooners.”

Keith’s eyes widen.  “ _ Captain _ ?”

“More or less.”  A bitter expression looms over Shiro’s face, and he stares down at the brittle piece of driftwood that he’s twisting between his fingers.  “I said too much.  Protested too much, I guess.  They told me they were done with me.”

Keith never would have guessed.  He can’t imagine someone  _ not _ following his lead, and Keith’s eyebrows raise at the thought.  An entire crew, willing to go against Shiro’s good will?  Keith would have burnt them all to bits.  Very slowly.

A silence falls between them, and while it isn’t  _ uncomfortable _ , it’s not exactly calming.  Something is coming, and Keith is going to break the quiet, and they both know it.  They’re just waiting for the right moment.

“I’m not really a witch.”

Shiro’s head snaps towards Keith, and he flushes, knowing that the admission might make him look like a fraud.  In a way, he is.  “My mother was.  My father was just a fisherman.  We kind of keep to ourselves, so not a lot of witches end up conceiving with mortals.”

“But you have magic,” Shiro reminds him.  “I’ve seen it.”

“It sucks,” Keith laughs bitterly.  “This potion for your arm--it should take three hours, tops.  But I’m such a failure that it’s going to take three  _ months _ .  You kind of got screwed.”

“I don’t see it that way,” Shiro shrugs.  “I can’t do any magic.  You can.  That seems impressive to me, yeah?  I mean, you’re definitely trying.”

Keith appreciates the gesture.  But, humans don’t know enough about magic to accept  _ actual _ witches.  Keith?  They’d hate Keith.  They  _ have _ hated Keith.  He’s had his fair share of rocks tossed at his head, and after a few, he decided it was best to live alone in isolation.

“Trying isn’t good enough.”  Keith pouts, leaning his chin on his forearms as he puts them on his knees.  “I’m sorry.  That’s why I’m out here by myself.”

“Because of your magic?”

“Because I’m a half-breed.”  Keith sighs and stares at the surf.  “Humans don’t want me ‘cause I’m weird.  Witches don’t want me ‘cause I’m weird.  So, I’m out here.  With Red.  On the beach.”

“I thought it was strange that you lived out here,” Shiro attempts to joke quietly, and it only tugs at the corners of Keith’s lips.

For a moment, they sit, and don’t make any movements.  But then, Keith feels an arm wrap around his shoulders.  He’s pulled into Shiro’s side and it’s  _ warm _ .  Comforting.  Keith sighs, closing his eyes, enjoying the basic feeling of being held.

“I think you’re a perfectly good witch,” Shiro says.  His breath ghosts over the top of Keith’s head, and Keith can hear the man’s heartbeat.  It’s close--too close--and Keith feels a flush rising to his cheeks.

“I think you’re a perfectly good pirate,” Keith says, and he can feel Shiro smile, although he can’t see it.  Keith nearly gasps when he feels Shiro’s fingers gliding through his hair, gently massaging at the base of his neck.

He hadn’t thought this relationship through.  Of course, keeping an unfairly attractive pirate in his cottage for three months was not going to do socially acceptable things to his libido.  But, he hadn’t imagined it would be reciprocated--and this action right now allows him to hope.  Hope is dangerous.  But he accepts the wash of adrenaline, anyway.

Bravely, he scoots closer.  He gives a soft moan as he presses his face into Shiro’s chest and wraps an arm around the pirate’s midsection.  Shiro stiffens, but doesn’t say anything.  Keith feels his breathing quicken, his pulse pounding.  Shiro is so solid, so enveloping.  It’s a helpful and kind embrace, but it also does things to Keith he’s not comfortable admitting.

He not-so-subtly rubs his thighs together, and he feels warmth pooling between his legs, flowering throughout his stomach.  Slowly, Shiro’s hand makes its way down Keith’s arm, to his waist, to his hip.  His hand is so  _ big _ .  It would nearly encircle his thigh.

“I like this,” Keith says softly--so softly that he isn’t sure Shiro hears it until the man shudders.  Keith makes sure to wet his lower lip and worry it until it’s puffy and pink before he glances up at Shiro.

Shiro’s pupils are a little too wide.  “Are you using magic, mister?”

“Do you want me to?” Keith asks coyly.  “Do I  _ need _ to?”

Shiro’s right shoulder twitches, like he wants to cup the side of Keith’s face with his other missing hand.  Instead, Keith’s fingers toy with the collar of Shiro’s vest.  He realizes how  _ small _ he is in comparison to Shiro.

“I don’t think  _ this _ will take three months,” Shiro says, his voice dark.  Keith feels instant heat flood his system, right to his core.  “Will it?”

Keith leans forward.  Their lips are so close, nearly touching, and he can feel their captured breaths moving between them.  Keith feels drunk on Shiro’s scent--sandalwood and seawater that he’s yet to wash away.

“I like to allow things to heat up a little more,” he whispers against Shiro’s lips, not quite kissing him.  “It’s not  _ quite _ ready, yet.”

And, then, he stands, brushing off the seat of his pants before he starts back towards the cottage, following his own glass footsteps.  He can feel Shiro’s gaze on him, and knows the pirate is looking places he shouldn’t.

Keith bites his lip to keep from smirking.  He hears Red purring as she trails behind.  

Tonight will certainly be interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmu on twitter @hitchups!
> 
> (also therianthropy is not being abandoned i'm sorry for taking so long lmao)


End file.
